687 Days
by TheGirlWhoRemembers
Summary: On one very special day every year, Mac's loved ones always take extra care to show him how much they love and appreciate him, even if he refuses to celebrate his birthday. (And he appreciates it more than he can say.)


AN: SPOILERS FOR FLASHLIGHT BELOW – VERY FEW PLOT-RELATED SPOILERS, ALMOST ALL SPOILERS WERE ALREADY REVEALED IN PREVIEWS.

Oh my goodness, I did so adore that episode! The FEELS! ALL THE FEELS! And so much fun, I couldn't stop grinning!

Having said that, I think we've got two continuity errors and one little mistake.

Firstly – when Mac's father left. In Metal Saw, Jack says that happened when he was twelve. In Flashlight, Bozer said it happened when Mac was ten. I'm going to stick with twelve.

Secondly – how old Mac is. He says that he would be 14 and it would be 231 days until his next birthday if they were on Mars. 1 Martian year is 687 Earth days or 669 Martian days (sols), which would mean that Mac is 15*669 – 231 sols old = 9804 sols old = 10068 Earth days old = 27.6 Earth years old. Obviously, that doesn't work. I think that they meant that Mac is 14 years old and there have been 231 days SINCE his birthday if they lived on Mars, because that makes him 14*669 + 231 sols old = 9597 sols = 9855 Earth days old = 27 years old. (I suspect that someone somewhere –ranging from the writer of the episode to Lucas Till - goofed, similar to what happened with the Second Law of Thermodynamics in Large Blade – Mac misquotes the Second Law of Thermodynamics as the entropy of the universe always _decreasing_ instead of _increasing_ in that episode.)

However, I think that is still a continuity error, because Mac said in Wire Cutter that he was born after the KGB was disbanded, which was in Nov/Dec 1991, so at absolute oldest, since his birthday is obviously not in December, given Scissors, he has to be born in 1992, so should be turning 25 based off of that. (I suppose that it's possible that the show is set sometime in the near future, but…) Anyway, I'm sticking with him being just turned 25.

To the makers of _MacGyver_ (who of course will never read this, but I'm putting it here for the sake of my guilty conscience anyway) – I love what you do, thank you so much for doing it and being the source of this thing that brings so many of us (irrational) happiness, and I'm sorry for being pedantic and nit-picky…

Also, to everyone who read that little rant/spiel – sorry for bombarding you with this very long author's note!

On to the story! Warning: this is a high T rating, in my opinion, owing to sexual innuendos (but nothing explicit) due to Nikki being Nikki.

* * *

 **Four**

* * *

At precisely six am, as agreed upon the night before, Angus MacGyver jumped out of bed (he'd been staring at the clock for the past half hour), and ran into his parents' bedroom, jumping onto their bed with a grin and a shout.

Ellen and James MacGyver stirred and smiled at him. His mom reached over and pulled him into her arms, and his dad reached out and ruffled his hair.

'Happy birthday, Angus!'

'Four! You're a big boy now, son!'

The newly-four year old grinned into his mother's shoulder. (He really was big now, wasn't he? He'd even be starting school come September!)

After a moment, she let go of him and leaned back a little, a broad smile on her face as she fixed his ruffled hair.

'I promised you pancakes for breakfast, didn't I?'

The little blonde boy nodded eagerly, sparking a broad grin in his dad in response, and his parents shared a fond look. Then, his dad reached out and grabbed his hand.

'Come on then, let's go get dressed and brush our teeth while Mom makes breakfast.'

Mac nodded and followed his dad to the bathroom, as his mom headed to the kitchen.

'Daddy, wouldn't it be easier if you could put pancake batter into the toaster, and press the button and then have the pancakes come flying out a couple of minutes later?'

James just shook his head with a smile and a laugh.

(His little boy was a genius, and he never understood where all of these thoughts came from and probably never would, but they sure made life interesting.)

* * *

The doorbell rang, and Mac pelted to the door, followed closely by his parents. His dad opened the door to reveal his grandfather, and Mac instantly flung his arms around him.

Mac's grandfather hugged him back just as tightly, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wrapped box. Mac took it eagerly and examined it closely for a moment, shaking it with the light of curiosity in his eyes, trying to work out what it was, and then looked up at the three adults with wide, pleading eyes.

'Can I open it? _Please_?'

All three looked down at him with softness in their eyes and broad smiles (it was so hard to say no to those eyes) and his grandfather nodded.

'Go ahead, bud!'

Mac ripped into the paper and opened the little box, revealing a Swiss Army knife.

His mom eyed her father with a mildly concerned look, to which the older man responded with a smile and a hand on her shoulder.

'It's safe for him, Ellen; it's one of those My First Swiss Army Knives, made specifically for kids.'

She just nodded with a smile, pacified, and James indicated their son with a nod of his head and a wry expression.

'Besides, I don't think you could get it off him now!'

Mac was already exploring the various functions of the knife; he had the pliers held firmly in hand.

All three adults watched him for a moment, and James slipped his arm around his wife's waist. Then, they all looked up at one another, sharing yet another look full of fondness and meaning.

None of them would ever be able to bear to take away what was clearly going to become Mac's favourite possession.

Not with that look of promises of ideas and curiosity and _wonder_ and _joy_ in his eyes as he explored the knife's various attachments.

Eventually, Mac seemed to remember himself and his manners, and flung his arms around his grandfather yet again.

'Thanks so, so much, Granddad!' He let go of his grandfather, and looked up at all three of the adults with a wide grin. 'This is the best birthday ever!'

(He'd had pancakes for breakfast and there were going to be grilled cheese sandwiches and his mom and grandfather's special tomato soup for dinner, and there was cake, too – his mom had promised – and he'd been given _awesome_ presents and his mom and dad and grandfather were all there. _Of course_ it was the best birthday ever.)

* * *

 **Thirteen**

* * *

Sitting at the dining table, Mac, mouth full of the most delicious waffles he'd ever tasted in his life (Bozer, who at fifteen was already an excellent cook, had been tweaking his already-amazing waffle recipe, and had, it seemed, managed to increase the tastiness at least by one order of magnitude in the latest iteration, which was ludicrously impressive), looked up and around at his best friend and his grandfather, who were also digging into their own plates of waffles.

He was thirteen today.

A teenager, officially, arbitrary as it was.

(The whole concept was based off the last four letters of several English numbers, and had been invented for the sake of _marketing_. It wasn't even a good indicator of human developmental stages, since everyone was different and growing up was a continuum, not delineated into convenient, easily-defined chunks, anyway.)

Birthdays were arbitrary. He knew that on an intellectual level.

They made no sense.

But, as his grandfather always said in response to Mac's little rants about things like this, humans didn't make any sense, and he might be a genius, might have a bigger brain than anyone his grandfather had ever met, as the older man said, but he was still definitely a human.

So, no matter what he said, at the end of the day, birthdays still meant something to him (which is why it'd hurt so much, last year when…), if only because human society, of which he was obviously a member, had illogically accorded value to them.

It was his first birthday without his dad.

(A little voice in the back of his head chipped in and said that hopefully it would be his _only_ birthday without him. Mac told it to be quiet and stop holding out false hope and kicked himself mentally to boot. His dad wasn't coming back.)

Internally, Mac sighed, taking another bite of waffle.

From across the table, his grandfather smiled gently at him, his blue eyes, which Mac had inherited, full of something that Mac could only describe, despite his far-above-average-for-any-age vocabulary, as _love_. Bozer grinned at him, that same look in his eyes, and took a comically-large bite of waffle, causing his cheeks to bulge like a chipmunk's and eliciting a smile from his best friend. From under the table, Archimedes nudged his knee, and absent-mindedly, Mac reached down to scratch his ears.

He had waffles (the best he'd ever tasted) cooked by his best friend (who was the best best friend in the whole world) for breakfast, which he was sharing with said best friend and his grandfather (whom he loved more than he could put into words).

Later, his grandfather was going to take him and Bozer and their new friend, new girl Penny Parker, to play mini-golf (he was awesome at mini-golf, and how could he not love something that combined physics _and_ amusing silliness?), and Bozer had made a ridiculously fancy and delicious-looking cake for them all to share (Mac had managed to sneak a peek last night when Bozer had shown up with the cake – his best friend had stayed overnight – it looked to have at least eight layers.).

But, as they'd all insisted, it wasn't because it was his birthday.

It was because he and Bozer hadn't had a sleepover for ages.

It was because Bozer was still testing that waffle recipe and needed to practice it as much as possible, to work out all the kinks.

It was because the mini-golf place in town was the absolute best and Penny hadn't gotten to experience it yet, and she just _had_ to, and mini-golf was always better with friends.

It was because Bozer was workshopping that chocolate cake recipe, and he needed guinea pigs, and Mac and his grandfather and Penny were convenient.

(Mac saw through it all, of course.)

(And he was so grateful that there wasn't a birthday party, that there weren't balloons and lots of people and a piñata and a huge pile of presents, that there wasn't that reminder – maybe it would fade, one day, they said time healed all wounds, after all – of that terrible, terrible disappointment and heartbreak and abandonment, when there'd been such an _occasion_ and his dad had not only not showed, but left for good…)

(This was something in-between, some kind of compromise. Enough to show that they hadn't forgotten, not that he'd ever even considered that they would, enough to be a gesture that did nothing but warm his heart and help him through _this_ day, to show him that he was _loved_ and that he was _worth it_ and that he did _matter_ and that he _wasn't_ alone, not nearly.)

Despite all that had happened in the last year, despite all that this day was associated with for him, he knew that it was going to be a good birthday.

Maybe even a great birthday.

(Bozer's cake really did look like it might be even more delicious than the waffles, after all.)

* * *

 **Eighteen**

* * *

'Hey, Mac. How was class?'

Mac dropped his backpack in the corner of the workshop he and his engineering buddies rented, and turned to Tom who'd greeted him as he'd entered.

'Didn't learn anything new, unfortunately, but I had time to do some thinking and I've got a couple of ideas on how we can increase the efficiency.' He indicated the engine of the solar car that they were working on; the competition was only a week away and they had a title to defend. Matt and Aaron both looked up from the engine, and Aaron handed him a spanner as he crouched down to take a look, while Matt just gestured casually over at the bench.

There was an envelope sitting on it, plain white with a couple of greasy fingerprints.

'I stopped by the hardware store when I was getting the snacks; they're having a really big sale, thought I'd buy you that so you can go pick up some more supplies while they're discounted.'

Aaron pointed with the screwdriver he was holding at the couple of boxes lying against the far wall.

'And one of the dining halls is replacing all of their toasters; I thought I'd save them from the junkyard and see if you'd like them. Recycling being good and important and all.'

Tom reached under the bench he was standing next to and pulled out a plastic bag, and tossed it to Mac, who opened it and peeked inside. It was full of packs of chewing gum.

'They're past the expiry date; the convenience store near that bakery with the really good pies was pretty desperate to offload it. Figured it being expired wouldn't be a problem, since you don't usually use it for chewing anyway.' Tom pulled out one last box from under the bench. A cake box. 'And since I was there, I stopped by and picked us up a treat from the bakery.'

Mac just grinned.

(They knew, of course. They all knew why he didn't like to celebrate his birthday, why he was adamant that there'd be no party, even if he was turning eighteen and that was a big thing, a milestone and all, but still, they found a way to show that they cared, that it mattered to them because he did, that they wanted to do something to celebrate him and his presence in their lives and show that they loved him and appreciated him, without going too far.)

(In fact, in all honesty, they were being more cautious than they had to be. Time was helping. His grandfather had helped. Bozer and Penny had, and still did. His beloved MIT friends helped too, of course.)

He pulled out one of the packs of gum, and held it up with a wry smirk.

'You know, given the preservative content in this stuff, it'd probably be fine to chew for at least another decade, especially given the low moisture content. Though, it won't be very pleasant, I imagine.' His smirk grew a little wider. 'Maybe I should test that empirically.'

A familiar female voice sounded out from behind him.

'You're right in this case, but seriously, that is why I'm going to have nightmares about patients like you, Mac.'

His grin widened, and he turned around to face Beth, who, while not one of his engineering buddies (she was doing a biology and chemistry-focused course and would, he knew for sure, start medical school at a top school to boot in the fall), was definitely a member of his little MIT family. Definitely a dear friend (though he wished they could be something more, as futile as that was, since he knew there was no way his bigger-than-Darlene-Martin-sized crush could possibly be returned).

The seventeen-year-old girl was holding a very large cardboard box (it came up to just under her chin, and she had to tilt her head back slightly in order for that to be the case), with large letters written in Sharpie on it that proclaimed that it was _not_ a birthday present.

Mac quickly put down the bag of chewing gum, and walked over to take the box from her. He raised an eyebrow; it was rather heavy.

Unfortunately, Tom, Matt and Aaron decided to exchange smirks at that moment. (It was his birthday, and he couldn't catch a break, unsurprisingly.)

It was Tom who spoke.

'You carried that all the way across campus, Beth?'

The _for Mac_ was thankfully left off. Mac willed his ears not to burn, while telling that traitorous little voice in his head that pointed out that she really _did_ carry a large and heavy box across campus to give to him for his birthday (and it must have been quite an undertaking for her, because her cheeks were still flushed from exertion) to shut up.

The petite girl narrowed her eyes and poked a finger at Tom in response.

'I'm stronger than I look!'

Matt just jogged Tom with his elbow.

'Though she be but little…'

'She is fierce.'

Tom snorted as Aaron finished speaking.

'And that's the only Shakespeare quote you know.'

Both Matt and Aaron affected offended expressions.

'Excuse me!'

'I am well-versed in Shakespearean verse, thank you very much!'

'Alas, poor Yorrick, I knew him well…'

'To be, or not to be, that is the question…'

'Romeo, Romeo, where art thou-'

'-It's _wherefore_ art thou, you idiot!'

Mac and Beth exchanged a smile and a chuckle (life was never boring when they were all together, not in the slightest, and not just because of the crazy science projects, primarily driven by Mac, that they all partook in), and Mac took the opportunity to put the box containing his not-birthday present on the bench and look inside.

It contained several doorknobs, the innards of a grandfather clock, including the pendulum, and what he assumed was a completely non-functional UV-Vis spectrometer, since people didn't usually throw those out if they worked or were repairable and they were rather pricey, so he didn't think Beth had the money to buy one. Though, maybe her mom's lab (her mother was a chemistry professor) was replacing theirs…

He looked up from the box and over at her with a broad smile, which she returned.

'I saw those and thought of you.'

His smile widened.

'Thanks, Beth.' There was a pause for a moment, and then he looked over at Aaron and Matt and Tom, who were still having a Shakespeare-off. Mac raised his voice over the din. 'And thanks, guys, for everything.'

The three other boys stopped their mangling of The Bard, and grinned at Mac instead.

'Congratulations on attaining the age of suffrage, Mac.'

'Happy womb-exit day!'

'I hope you enjoy your nineteenth trip around the sun!'

He shook his head fondly, chuckling, and glanced over at Beth, who bit her lip and smiled a little sheepishly up at him.

'Is it okay if I wish you happy birthday, Mac?'

He nodded, his smile widening a little. Hers widened too in response.

'Then happy birthday, Mac.'

His smile broadened even more, and he nodded again, looking around at his friends.

'Thanks, really, thanks, guys. I appreciate it.'

They all grinned back at him, and then Tom practically skipped over to the bench where he'd left the cake box.

'Now, who wants cake?'

'Pie is a way better dessert; you should have bought pie!'

'Cake's traditional!'

'Damn societal convention, pie is delicious!'

'She's not wrong!'

'Amen to that!'

Mac just threw his head back and laughed.

He did love a good party, as long as it wasn't his birthday party, but _this_ was his kind of birthday.

* * *

 **Twenty-Four**

* * *

'Happy Birthday, Mac.'

His girlfriend smirked at him (the kind of smirk that promised very good things), as she toyed with the top button of her jewel-green shirt.

He smirked right back from his seat on his bed, leaning back a little.

'What did you get me?'

She sauntered towards him, putting a little extra swing in her hips.

'You'll have to do some unwrapping to find out.' The smirk widened, and Mac's brain slipped off on vacation. 'Or, if you'd prefer, I could do the unwrapping for you…' She popped the top button on her shirt. 'Your choice, birthday boy.'

He knew he still had all sorts of issues around his birthday, and he still wasn't keen on a big celebration (even if Jack and Bozer's hearts were firmly in the right place, and he honestly appreciated their efforts), but he could definitely get behind this kind of _intimate_ celebration.

* * *

 **Twenty-Five**

* * *

Mac blew out the candles on his paperclip birthday cake with a smile.

His first birthday party in thirteen years, and he could definitely say that it was a _great_ one.

Incredible food (those shrimp were seriously amazing), great music, birthday cake, and most important of all, his loved ones were there to share it with him, and had, in fact, done this all _for him._

Safe to say, it wasn't going to be another thirteen years before his next birthday party.

* * *

 _The concept of birthdays makes absolutely no sense._

 _They have great use administratively, I guess. I mean, we do kind of need to have a date on which it becomes legal for you to vote or drink or get married, and they've got use as passwords and the like._

 _But they're still arbitrary and don't make sense._

 _Every time I said that, my grandfather's response was always that I was missing the point._

 _Birthdays, he said, might be arbitrary, but they're what you make of them, like the many other arbitrary things that we accord meaning to, like names, or, indeed, if you think about it, the whole concept of language._

 _Most people use this arbitrary day to put a special effort into expressing their appreciation and love for the person whose birthday it is._

 _My grandfather always said that while said appreciation and love should really be expressed every day, there's absolutely nothing wrong with throwing in a little extra every now and then, and a birthday's a great excuse and an even better reminder. Of course, he was right, as usual._

 _I knew that, I always did. He knew that I knew, of course, but I think he was trying to get through to me and impress some sort of life lesson on me; trying to make sure I didn't let myself forget or compartmentalize it away._

 _I always knew that arbitrary as they were, they did mean something._

 _And my birthday was never arbitrary for me._

 _In fact, it meant rather a lot._

 _That's why it hurt so much._

 _That's why I stopped celebrating them, really, truly celebrating them, after my twelfth._

 _They mean something, they mean a lot, really, because we mark them with love. Nothing's meaningless when it's done for love, even if it's arbitrary and irrational._

 _But I think it's time to start celebrating mine again._

 _Maybe past time, if I'm honest._

 _Time heals all wounds, they say._

 _I don't know if that's true, but I do know that love really helps._

 _A little perspective and more than a bit of persistence, stubbornness and annoyance from loved ones helps too._

 _Still, I'm glad Jack kept his word, mostly, and kept it classy, dignified and intimate._

 _Though, I think hedgehog racing might really be more interesting that he gave it credit for being, and monster trucks are awesome too, and laser tag's good fun when there's no smart-bullets involved…_

 _Maybe next year._

* * *

AN: So, what did you think? I'm sorry for being pretty AWOL (both in writing and reviewing) for the last couple of weeks; university is absolutely insane! I really, really wish I was friends with Mac right now – I'm sure he'd be able to help me grasp statistical thermodynamics and cyclic voltammetry!

I don't expect it to let up at all (in fact, it will definitely get worse), and there's five weeks remaining until mid-sem break (and no guarantees I'll have time to do any writing during that break). I have a couple of stories that I do want to write, but I don't have the time, energy or inclination right now. If you do see stuff from me (no promises at all, I'm afraid), it'll be fairly short response-to-episodes pieces like this.

I'm thinking about doing a multi-chap sequel to THREE from _Permutations_ which would be a re-write/re-imagining of the second half of the season, and since I firmly believe that we're going to get the Chrysalis/Thornton/Nikki storyline tied up in the finale, you can rest assured that I'll write some kind of response to the end of that storyline/the finale. I've also got a couple of things running around in my head, not much more than a handful of scenes, including a sequel to Partners/Not Just a Cover/Geography Lessons introducing Beth as a poisons researcher that Mac has to protect from the assassins who are trying to kill her (lots of undercover tropes and dad!Jack and Mac as a James Bond-Q hybrid), some kind of story in which Jack is Mac's father figure from a much younger age (I'm thinking a no-DXS AU in which Jack and Diane meet earlier and Diane refuses to let Jack leave her and Riley so easily, which triggers a cascade of events) and is probably going to wind up some kind of happy/domestic/suburban high school AU if I write it, and an ending (a very, very tragic ending) to The Darkness Inside.


End file.
